I love you most while you’re asleep,
tangled through the sheets,
a skin and linen swap meet,
sprawled there in threadbare clothes,
regal in repose, with hands thrown
open to palms and level headed,
stirring, mumbled proclamations
of dream nation doctrine,
confident in somnambulant
though prone, to whispers of the willing
flesh through fabric copse
in effervescent glimmers
imposing porcelain instances
upon my defenses, wearing me
down into the governance of sleep.
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